


Mother's Warning

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, the rest of pelican town stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: Leah imagines her as a statue of mahogany, with a smooth curved back and a dark gaze that follows you around the room. She is a siren, her eyes and smile beckoning you into her arms, but Leah can't decide if moving towards her would dash you against the rocks.





	Mother's Warning

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a quote from The Avengers (1998). Ten points if you can spot it.

Ariadne is swimming when Leah sees it. Now she can’t _unsee it. _

Leah's cabin gives her a perfect view of Cindersap's natural beauty; the forest, river, and pond are a symphony of colour and inspiration.

When Leah looks out one afternoon, she can't help but stare. The farmer - Ariadne, if memory serves - has waded into the river to cool off. She's in little more than shorts and a tube top, baring herself to the sun and the world. She cups water in her hands and splashes it up. Then, she takes a step back, seems to take a deep breath, and takes a running dive into the cold water. There is a shout as she jumps back up, the breath punched out of her by the cold water, but she stands up, back to Leah as she stretches to the sun, ruffling water out of her short hair. On her shoulder blades, Leah can see the tattoo of a soaring dragon, black ink rising above the soaking fabric, its jaws open to take a bite. 

Leah can’t stop staring. Nymph isn’t the right word to describe her, not this fantastical alluring image. Ariadne isn’t doing anything other than standing in the water, but something about her aches for someone to stand beside her. Something about it makes Leah want to step outside, pull off her boots and wade in alongside her. A siren without words. It also makes her want to pick up her chisel and find the nicest block of mahogany she can (it will match her skin perfectly) and indigo to highlight her shades of light and dark.

But Leah does not join. She just stands there at the window, peering through like a peeping tom, unable to move.

Then Ariadne turns her head, looking back toward the cabin, and she smiles at Leah.

Leah squeaks and ducks back into the cabin, hands over her red face. There is no knock at the door, but that doesn’t stop Leah from hiding anyway. She tries to carve, sitting in front of the driftwood she pulled from the sea, but all she can see is Ariadne's smile.

* * *

“Let’s be real here, she’s fucking _stunning._”

Leah can hear Sam from across the saloon where she sips at her glass of wine. She leans slightly to see him better, noting him, Sebastian, and Abigail yet again playing around the pool table and talking.

“I mean, Ariadne is pretty, but-”

Sam scoffs. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me she’s _just pretty, _Abigail.” Abigail doesn’t answer and Sam adds, “Exactly. She’s practically a work of art.”

“Based on how she looked when she came here, the piece was probably titled ‘Everything my mother told me to avoid’,” Sebastian chuckles. “What she’s doing out here in the boonies, I don’t know, but I will agree, it never hurts looking at her.”

It is horribly objectifying and Leah really should say something to stop them from talking about it, but how can she when she agrees with everything they are saying, when everyone in _town _agrees? Ariadne has mellowed out in the months she’s been here – switched from leggings and leather to jeans and henleys, chopped off most of her long black hair into a pixie cut, toned down the eyeliner and dark lipstick, lost the dead look behind her eyes – but that hasn’t changed the fact that she is drop dead gorgeous. She is a beautiful woman, there is no question of it. Leah imagines her as a statue of mahogany, with a smooth curved back and a dark gaze that follows you around the room. She mentally paints the woman in water as well, sunlight shining off her, practically glistening. She promptly has to have a sip of wine to wet her dry mouth, hoping she has had enough to excuse the flush that has crept across her cheeks.

The door opens slightly, and Ariadne steps in just as Abigail wonders out loud, "I wonder if she was a model. With those eyes and that smile, Ariadne has to have been one."

"Unfortunately, no," Ariadne calls, and Abigail falls off the couch. Leah hides her smile in her glass. "My sisters were, though. Mel for glasses, Callista for dresses. I have good genes, but I guess I got the recessive ones."

There is no comment from the peanut gallery in the corner. Ariadne orders a glass of wine from Gus and makes her way over to Leah.

“Sam called you a work of art,” Leah can’t help but sabotage herself.

Ariadne laughs, bright and clear. “Oh? That’s flattering. Anything else that I didn't hear?”

“Sebastian said that based on how you looked when you moved here, your art piece would be called something like ‘Everything my mother told me to avoid’,” Leah adds softly, not quite sure if that's an okay thing to say.

“Sort of a ‘Mother warned you about women like me’ piece?” Ariadne thoughtfully. 

_Until you came, I didn’t know there **were** women like you, _Leah thinks unhelpfully.

“A little long of a title…maybe something a little more mysterious, wouldn’t you agree, miss artist?” Ariadne continues, eyes off in the distance. The sarcasm is almost detached, uncaring, and Leah can’t help but wonder if it’s to hide how hurt she feels about it. “What’s a better title?”

Leah knows. Keeping with the sentiment, if Leah had made it, it would be Mother's Warning. Ariadne would be painted in a cat suit, her hair long and loose, her eyes sharp and condescending. It would be a masterpiece to behold. But Leah shakes her head instead. "I don’t think that’s what your sculpture would be called?”

Ariadne’s focus turns on her a little more. “Oh? A sculpture?”

“Not that I’ve done one,” Leah hurries to say, her cheeks flushing again, “I mean, a more suitable title and evocation.”

“What do you think then?” No sarcasm, no teasing. It’s an honest question. “What do I say to the world?”

Leah ponders that for a moment, running her finger along the edge of her wine glass. “Bastion,” she decides. “The rock that stands against the waves, the upholder of principle.”

Ariadne ducks her head slightly, and if her hair was still long, Leah suspects Ariadne would be hiding behind it. “Now you’re really flattering me,” she replies.

“Flattery means I don’t mean it,” Leah says quietly.

Ariadne looks up through her bangs and Leah swallows. Finally, Leah finds some bravery. "Could I carve you sometime? Or draw. I mean, you do make a good model, and I think you'd be inspiring."

Ariadne's smile is warm. "I'd like that." She gently taps her wine glass against Leah's, the clink ringing in the room. "I can come anytime you'd like."

If this woman is a siren, Leah will gladly follow her call. Or perhaps she will be lucky enough to call the siren. 

_Mother warned me about girls like you. But I think I might just ignore her._


End file.
